Cleaning out the past to make way for the future.

Three years ago, on a crisp fall day, my husband left me.

He abruptly left me to care for our kids (Mad Dog and The Deuce were 5 years and Crowbar was 5 months old), brand new house and the family dog. He didn't explain why, other than saying he just wasn't happy.

I thought my life had ended that day. It was Oct. 20, 2005.

The first year and a half that followed was full of ups and downs, with some of the downs being pretty low. Looking back, I see now that I was living in survival mode. But I drew strength from my dear friends and family and managed to survive. My sole goal during that time was to create a new, stable normal family arrangement for the kids.

My life took a complete 180. I moved. I changed jobs. And I put anger and pain aside, and reached out to my ex, all in the name of positive co-parenting.

While the first part was spent regrouping and rebuilding, the next year and a half was spent enjoying our new normal. I worked hard to create fun, new traditions that would be wonderful memories for the kids. And, I focused on making me a stronger, better, happier person. I worked off baby weight, started dating and began going to church.

It was during that time that I met Mark.

Now, on three-year anniversary of that awful weekend, my life is beginning a new, exciting chapter: Mark is moving in. I couldn't be more excited. There are a zillion reasons why I love Mark. He is caring and kind. Funny and wise. Capable, confident and true to his word. And when he proposed, he told me that he loved me and the kids with all of his heart.

Mark will move in on Oct. 18, 2008.

So, as I've been clearing the way for Mark to move in, I've come across lots of old, painful mementos of the fall of 2005. Most of it is paper. Documents from buying/selling houses, the divorce and notes too/from school guidance counselors, trying to help the kids through. I'd packed all this stuff into an old laundry basket and threw it in a closet because I couldn't bear to sort through it. But, in order to clear the way for Mark and his things, I pulled it out and began to sort through.

Buried within all of the painful memories, were a number of wonderful items: Crowbar's footprints from the hospital and his certificate of baptism. Pictures from the twins' first day of kindergarten. And quite a few cards of love and support from friends and family.

As I sorted through, I cried and cried. Some of my tears were sad, but most were emotional tears, impressed with how everyone rallied around me and the kids.

Jody - I found the card you sent me. You told me to put my trust in God, that He'd see me through. You were right. He did. I never brought myself to cash that check. It was just too much, especially as you were dealing with your own challenges. But I appreciate the gesture so very much.

Chris - I found several notes you sent, including the one for the spa treatment. I still can't believe you drove 150 miles, round trip, to put frozen, home-cooked meals on my doorstep. I don't know how I deserve such a dedicated friend.

Jeannine and EJ - You opened your home and watched Crowbar for me. Having an infant and rambunctious preschooler of your own, you're both saints for taking on another baby all day. Thank you.

Grandma Judy - I found pictures of Gus and remember how you made the 70-mile trip late one night to come and take the dog off my hands for me. You took him in and cared for him for about two years. I can't thank you enough.

Mom, Dad, Addie - Without your love and financial support, I'm afraid to think of where the kids and I could've wound up. You took us in, you opened your homes, you helped me parent. Someday I will pay you all back, I promise.

Brothers and Sisters - Countless phone calls. Countless moves. I wonder how people that are only children get through life's challenges. One of the most important things you did for me, was help me keep a sense of humor through the whole ordeal. Thank you.

It felt good to sort through the basket. Cathartic. I cleared the way for an exciting future and finally dealt with the past.

A lot of the paperwork is sensitive information, an identity thief's dream. Instead of sitting at my tiny office shredder, for the next 2 weeks, I've decided to ceremoniously burn it all.

I'm going to buy a package of marshmallows for the kids and a bottle of champagne for Mark and me and we're going to have a big bonfire. The kids will raise their gooey, toasty marshmallows and we'll raise our champagne flutes.

We'll toast to surviving the past and we'll toast to welcoming the future.